


Human Shield

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Blood Loss, Bomb, Day 4, Prompt: Human Shield, Self-Sacrifice, Shrapnel - Freeform, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Jack Dalton is a self-sacrificing idiot.Whumptober prompt: human shield.





	Human Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Secret_Library98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Library98/pseuds/Secret_Library98).

One minute Mac is fiddling with the HID prox control panel and the next he’s flat on the floor. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s not on the floor as a result of the explosion, whatever it was, but instead because Jack had tackled him a split second before. His first clue isn’t the timing though, it’s the way Jack gasps and then cries out in pain when Mac tries to move him.

“Jack?” Mac asks, his voice already on edge. “Jack, come on buddy, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

But Jack’s breath comes in short, shallow, fast little sips of air, and there’s no response. Mac worms his way out from under Jack, trying to jostle him as little as possible, so he can get a look at the damage.

Honestly, with all the blood, it’s hard to tell just what Jack’s injuries are, though there’s plenty of shrapnel to be seen. Mac knows that he needs to assess, find the most critical wounds, and apply pressure while they wait for medevac. Mac taps the comm in his ear.

“Matty, the op’s blown. We need medevac now. Jack’s down.”

“Mac, we saw that on the satellite feed. What the hell was that?” Matty asks.

Mac looks around quickly, “RPG of some kind. Homemade, not industrial otherwise we wouldn’t be here. It was low power but it looks like the frag was mostly roofing nails.”

“Medevac is inbound to your location and Phoenix agents are securing the area. What’s Dalton’s condition?” Matty presses.

Mac’s been trying to figure that out but he either needs water to clear up some of the area for visual inspection — which he doesn’t have — or he’s going to have to manually probe the areas which are bleeding. 

“Hey, Jack. I’m gonna have to poke around a little. It’s gonna hurt. Try to stay still,” Mac warns.

Jack doesn’t seem to hear him and Mac can’t wait on Jack to regain consciousness. He presses over the largest and most obvious wound. It’s not from a nail, Mac can tell that much. The laceration lies between two ribs and probably severed an intercostal artery judging by the rate of flow. Mac presses around a bit to make sure that he’s not going to do more damage by applying pressure and then rips a chunk of his flannel overshirt off and presses hard against the wound. Predictably, but still to Mac’s relief, Jack screams and tries to get away. 

Mac puts his hand on a mostly uninjured part of Jack shoulder and presses him back to the floor. “Hey, hey, easy Jack. I know it hurts. Just trying to keep pressure on the wound, buddy. Just try to relax. Medevac is on their way.”

“Fuck,” Jack mutters.

Mac smiles sadly and probes some of the other visibly bleeding wounds. “Yeah, I think that about covers it.”

Jack winces and groans but stays otherwise stationary while Mac works. The amount of shrapnel is really concerning but there’s not really anything Mac can do for it. 

“Blondie, give me a status report on Dalton!” Matty shouts through the comms.

Mac quickly takes stock of the situation. “Approaching severe blood loss. Still partially conscious. Significant shrapnel in the back and legs; a couple of what appear to be minor lacerations on his head but they don’t appear to penetrate his skull. I’m not sure about some of the other wounds though, he may have organ damage and internal bleeding. I can’t exactly roll him over to check what his front looks like.”

“What about you? You’ve got to be injured, too,” Matty presses.

“Just a couple minor pieces of shrapnel in my left leg. It’s already clotting,” Mac reports. He leaves out how he hasn’t bothered to tend to his own wounds, not when Jack is leaking like a sieve under his hands. 

“Not to be rude, but that’s it? Dalton takes an entire hardware store of frag and you’ve got a boo boo? What the hell happened?”

Mac looks around the room and replays the moments leading up to the explosion. Oh.

“Jack used himself as a human shield to protect me from the blast. I was busy working on bypassing the HID prox since we don’t have a way to clone a valid keycard when the blast went off. But the blast didn’t knock me down, Jack did. He tackled me to the ground and covered me,” Mac explains, he has to get the words out before they begin to sink in, because the force of the realization lands like another RPG. 

Jack sacrificed himself. He could have ducked — he was their lookout on the other side of the room, he had plenty of time to take cover and he would have taken less damage — but instead he took the time to protect Mac and now he’s bleeding out on the eighteenth floor of some stupid office building in downtown Manhattan. 

Mac swallows against the swell of emotion and presses harder against the two wounds that he’s chosen to focus his efforts on. Jack groans and wriggles a bit, but he’s not really conscious enough to put up a fight. Mac can only pray that medevac arrives in time.

*****

“For all the staying calm, steady hands crap they teach you in EOD, you’re not very gentle, Mac. Geez,” Jack grumbles.

Mac chuckles and tries to take the next corner a little more slowly. “It’s not my fault they gave you the wheelchair with the broken caster.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the boy genius. Can’t you fix it or something?”

“Probably,” Mac concedes as they turn down another corridor.

They roll on for a few more moments before Jack turns his head back to look at Mac. “Well, are you gonna do something?”

“No,” Mac replies evenly.

“Really, man? I’m over here looking like a block of very muscular Swiss cheese and you can’t do me the simple mercy of fixing the wiggly wheel?” Jack moans.

Mac smiles, glad to see that four days in the hospital haven’t dampened Jack’s spirits. “Jack, by the time I find the things I need to repair it and then actually get the wheel working, we could be halfway to my house.”

“Yeah, but I’m in pain, Mac. Have some compassion,” Jack pleads.

Mac hits the button for the elevator and waits dutifully behind his charge. “A) you’re hopped up on so much oxy that you’re not even feeling your toes and B) if you can’t handle this wheelchair, riding in the car is going to suck. You’ll be fine.”

Jack mutters something about human rights abuses that Mac can’t catch. After that, they lapse into a companionable silence, or as much silence as Jack ever manages with his constant groaning and muttering. 

It’s a relief to be going home, especially after such a close call — Jack needed three units of blood once they arrived at the hospital. But the relief doesn’t really sink in until they cross the threshold to the outside. Mac’s been with Jack the whole time and the sunlight on his skin is suddenly overwhelming, a reminder of their temporary hiatus from the real world. 

“I can feel you thinking back there. What’s on your mind?” Jack asks as they cross the parking lot.

Mac swallows. Jack knows him better than Mac knows himself sometimes and there’s no point in pretending he’s not hung up on something. “You could have taken cover; you didn’t have to take the hit like you did. You had time.”

“Yeah, I sure did. And I put that time to good use — saving your scrawny ass.”

Mac finds it a little hard to believe that he’s really worth all this but he doesn’t say it because he doesn’t want to tell Jack that he’s wrong or that he did it all for nothing. 

They pull up to the car and Mac helps Jack slowly make the transfer between seats, grumbling about his delicate rear the whole way. Mac cranks the engine to get the AC running and hurries the decrepit chair back to the entrance before joining Jack.

They head towards Mac’s house at a leisurely pace, Mac mindful of Jack’s numerous injuries.

They’re stopped at a red light when Jack says, “It was the right choice, Mac. I’d do it again if I had the choice. Stop worrying yourself.”

Mac swallows and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. “Thanks, Jack. I appreciate it.”

“No problemo, kid. Just doing what you’d do for me,” Jack says with a smile. And somehow, knowing that Jack understands what it would be like for the shoe to be on the other foot makes it easier to bear, makes it easier to feel like he’s not just taking advantage of Jack’s good heart. 

The light turns green and Mac slowly presses the accelerator. They’re headed home and they’re both alive and things are fine. It’s all just fine.


End file.
